𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 // original story

chapter two.

"If you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always got." - Henry Ford

oh god, my body hurts.

"where am i?" i ask trying to sit up.

someone pushes me back down by my chest softly. 

"sh sh sh- you're at the hospital baby, don't worry." it's my mom?

"you ate shit haha." Teddy, my 13 year old brother. Haven't really missed that sense of humor the last few weeks. 

"Teddy, don't use that language." my mom nudges him on the shoulder.

"wait, mom, what happened?" i ask, a little terrified.

"well, you did eat shit. you got knocked down by an older frat punk bitch who's fucking lucky; your grandmother told me not to bash his puny brains in because then we won't get his insurance money." i really got knocked out by a fucking frat boy, pathetic. "anyways, you smacked your face into some nice concrete, luckily you didn't break anything, but you did suffer a severe concussion and you've kind been in a coma for like two days."

"I'VE BEEN IN A FUCKING COMA???" what. the. fuck.

"i knew you'd survive but mom has been blubbering over your bed the last two days, thanks for waking up, i didn't know how much longer i could've taken it." 

"ah, very sweet of you Ted." I roll my eyes at his insensitivity, but chuckle because it was kind of funny. 

"also you keep getting texts from someone named sawyer m." Teddy starts handing me my phone and i snatch it from his hands. that little shit probably read her messages.

there are 6 imessages. holy fuck.

"heyyyy"

"oh my god some kid got knocked down by some frat dude and everyone's talking about it because apparently they're in a coma"

"hello?"

"walker?"

"HOLY SHIT YOURE THE ONE IN A COMA"

"dont you dare die on me walker. i really wanted to take you out and i can't do that if you're a corpse." 

i start to write back but then theres a knock on my hospital room door, my mom opens it, it's the doctor.

"good morning Vernon, I'm Callie Sanchez, your doctor during this visit. how are you feeling?"

"not great if i'm being honest." i hate hospitals.

"That is expected after the injury you sustained. we went ahead and did a CT scan to check on your beautiful little brain, and we did happen to see something a little unsettling. have you been having any other headache issues before this visit?"

"actually i have for a few months but i figured it was from lack of sleep and stress." my heart sank. if i have fucking cancer..

"okay, well it looks like theres a teeny tiny tumor on the left side of your brain, benign luckily, we can remove it carefully and effectively with surgery, it does have some risk and might leave a gnarly scar. you do have the option of not having the surgery but it could end up growing and possibly damage your communication ability because of where it sits."

im in shock. first i become the laughing stock of the school by falling into a coma, for two fucking days. now im learning about a tumor in which i've had for probably months and i have to choose between speaking or fucking dying.  

"how long is the surgery?" i can feel my throat swell and i gulp back tears.

"it will last around 2-3 hours, recovery is not bad nor extensive, you will be bed ridden for a few weeks until your stitches heal. no need for physical therapy, however you will see an occupational therapist and if you start feeling symptoms of depression or other mental health issues, contact us immediately. i can give you and your mom the full run down of things to be on the look out for if you do choose the surgery."